That a girl of Rosa's spirit should have hesitated for an instant
about fulfilling her engagement showed most plainly, I thought, that
she was not herself. I assured her that her fears were groundless,
that we lived in the nineteenth century, and that Deschamps' fury
would spend itself in nothing worse than threats. In the end she said
she would reconsider the matter.
"Don't wait to reconsider," I urged, "but set off for Paris at once.
Go to-day. Act. It will do you good."
"But there are a hundred things to be thought of first," she said,
laughing at my earnestness.
"For example?"
"Well, my jewels are with my London bankers."
"Can't you sing without jewels?"
"Not in Paris. Who ever heard of such a thing?"
"You can write to your bankers to send them by registered post."
"Post! They are worth thousands and thousands of pounds. I ought
really to fetch them, but there would scarcely be time."
"Let me bring them to you in Paris," I said. "Give me a letter to your
bankers, and I will undertake to deliver the jewels safely into your
hands."
"I could not dream of putting you to so much trouble."
The notion of doing something for her had, however, laid hold of me.
At that moment I felt that to serve even as her jewel-carrier would be
for me the supreme happiness in the world.
"But," I said, "I ask it as a favor."
"Do you?" She gave me a divine smile, and yielded.
At her request we did not leave the church together. She preceded me.
I waited a few minutes, and then walked slowly out. Happening to look
back as I passed along the square, I saw a woman's figure which was
familiar to me, and, dominated by a sudden impulse, I returned quickly
on my steps. The woman was Yvette, and she was obviously a little
startled when I approached her.
"Are you waiting for your mistress?" I said sharply. "Because...."
She flashed me a look.
"Did monsieur by any chance imagine that I was waiting for himself?"
There was a calm insolence about the girl which induced me to retire
from that parley.
In two hours I was on my way to London.